The More I See You (31 page)

“Until those fools made me go bathe,” he rumbled. “They feared my stench would give you foul dreams.”

“You must be exhausted.”

“Aye. I haven’t slept in four days. Well, perhaps a bit now and then.”

“Will you nap with me this afternoon?”

“That depends upon whether or not you plan to snore as fiercely as you have the past few days.”

“Richard!”

He gave her a gentle squeeze. “Very well. I’ll stuff cloth in my ears. Now, can you last until I change the dressing?”

She nodded. She felt him slip away from her then found a pot in her hands.

“Hold that.”

“It stinks.”

“Aye, that’s why it works so well. The stench alone drives away any evil humors.”

Jessica looked up at him and smiled faintly. “That sounded almost like a joke, Richard.”

“It was,” he said gravely. “Now be still.”

“Can I look?”

“You won’t want to, trust me,” he said, turning her head forward. “It isn’t pretty, but ’tis a far sight less ugly than death. You were wise to jump aside.”

“It was a reflex.”

“It saved your life.”

She shivered as he gently put the smelly cream over the burn. Then she bit her lip against the pain. He was quick, though, and within moments he was wrapping the bandage around her again. Jessica ignored the heat in her cheeks as Richard helped her sit and drew a light blanket around her shoulders. She met his gaze and saw a new gentleness there. Or maybe it was the last vestiges of worry. She held out her hands and Richard came to sit on
the edge of the bed. It was a simple thing to lean against him. His arms came around her without hesitation.

“You’re trembling,” he said.

“I think I’m scared.”

“But why?” He smoothed his hand over her hair. “I was a fool to have left you alone, but it won’t happen again.”

“I’ve never had anyone try to kill me before.”

Richard patted her back gently. “’Tis a bit unnerving the first time.”

Jessica pulled back and looked at him, then she looked at the scar on his cheek.

“Don’t fight anymore,” she said, before she could think better of it.

He lifted one eyebrow. “I am skilled at it. Unlike yourself, lady.”

“What did you do to Gilbert?”

“Nothing he didn’t deserve.”

“Won’t his father be angry? Won’t he come after you?”

Richard snorted. “The whelp has bawled like a babe for the last se’nnight, but he’s whole still. His sire won’t dare speak impolitely, much less do anything else.”

“Do you know why he did it?”

Richard hesitated, then shook his head. “I have my suspicions, but I’ll say nothing of them yet. I haven’t had the time to question him as thoroughly as I would like. I’ll do that once Godwin is finished with him.”

Jessica felt herself grow a little faint in spite of herself. “You let Godwin have him?”

“It seemed appropriate at the time.”

“Are you certain Gilbert’s father won’t take it out on you?”

Apparently that was not a good question to ask. Richard glared at her.

“Perhaps you are not as acquainted with my skill as you should be,” he said curtly.

“Well—”

“Allow me to acquaint you.”

What could she do? She smiled weakly. “Go ahead.”

“Wherever I go, there seems to be an inordinate amount of fatalities. I don’t take well to being insulted or having my life threatened, even in passing. Men know that I do not take kindly to jests and they avoid me accordingly. Almost ten years past, when Kendrick and I first went to the continent, a comrade of ours was slain by a man who was jealous of his skill. I killed that man and his entire personal guard alone. You wonder why the women flock to Kendrick and leave me be?”

Actually, she didn’t, but she wasn’t about to tell him that most women probably couldn’t appreciate his intense grumbliness and backhanded compliments. “Um—”

“They fear me,” he continued. “Their men fear me. There isn’t a shred of mercy in my soul, Jessica. It was destroyed before I even had a concept of the virtue. Coming against me won’t occur to Gilbert’s father because he knows my revenge will be swift and deadly.” His arms trembled beneath her hands. “A man does not come at what is mine, harm it, and walk away unscathed. Gilbert is a child, else he would be dead. To my mind, living with his cowardice was a better punishment.” His eyes were hard. “Do you understand now?”

“Yes.”

And she was actually somewhat amazed she’d ever gotten so far with the man. Miracles never ceased.

She took the tunic lying next to her and tried to put it on. Richard helped her immediately. Oh, he had mercy all right. He just didn’t recognize it. And maybe it didn’t have a place on the battlefield, but it certainly had its place in the bedroom. One day she would point the virtue out to him when he was unsuspecting.

She stopped him as he started to rise.

“Thank you,” she said softly. She leaned forward to kiss his cheek. He pulled away and rose. Jessica cursed herself silently. Great timing. But even if she hadn’t put him in a very good mood, he still picked her up with exquisite gentleness. She couldn’t lift her arms to put them around his neck, but even so, she didn’t feel uneasy
as he carried her across the room. He wouldn’t drop her.

She hadn’t expected the half-dozen men loitering outside the door, wearing their grimmest expressions. Richard ignored them. Jessica soon found herself deposited inside the garderobe. Richard held her by the shoulders.

“I don’t like this,” he muttered. “I’ll stay and aid you.”

She tried to push him away. “I’ll be fine. Really, Richard. Please?”

He left with a curse. The door slammed shut. Jessica bolted it quickly. Using the one-hole outhouse arrangement wasn’t the most pleasant thing, but she did what she had to. She’d make improvements once she was back on her feet.

She clutched the makeshift diaper in her hands and un-bolted the door only to fall out into Richard’s arms.

“By the bloody saints, Jessica, this is the last time,” Richard exclaimed. “I will humor you no more. Open that damned door, John. The rest of you get out of my way. I can tend her myself.”

Jessica found herself on her back again in short order. Richard drew the blankets up over her, his expression forbidding.

“Are you going to take a nap with me?” she asked, trying to smile.

He tucked the covers around her and shook his head. “I am not.”

Jessica stopped him with a hand on his arm before he could pull away. “Richard, I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I’m just worried about you.”

“I’m perfectly capable of seeing to myself. If you want to blame me for what happened to you, you’re well within your rights—”

“I’ve never thought that and don’t intend to start now,” she retorted. “Can’t I be concerned about your welfare?”

He looked nonplussed, as if she’d said something he just couldn’t comprehend. Jessica gave up and reached for his hand.

“Come here, please.”

His expression turned wary. “Why?”

“Because I want you to come down here and put your face close to mine.”

“Why?”

“So I can apologize without shouting, you jerk!”

He bent over obligingly. Jessica put her hand around his neck, then pressed her cheek against his.

“I should have used the chamber pot. I’m sorry. I’ll listen to you from now on.”

Richard snorted but remained silent.

She brushed her lips across his thin scar once more, then pushed him away. “I’d like you to stay and nap with me, but if you’re going to go, then get out of here now. All your frowning is making me tired.”

He straightened and left the room. Jessica rolled over onto her uninjured side and closed her eyes. Her energy had been depleted, most of it spent sparring with Richard. The man was just exhausting.

•   •   •

It was dark before she heard the sound of someone else in the chamber. Eventually, after listening to a good deal of grumbling and muttering, Jessica felt the bed dip. A calloused hand reached for hers.

“It is late?” she asked.

“Late enough.”

“Hold me?”

How gentle were those powerful arms as they gathered her close. Jessica pressed her face against Richard’s neck and sighed at the pleasure of the warmth. His hint of a beard was rough against her forehead but she didn’t mind that either. She put her hands on the hard wall of his chest and let the heat of his body seep into hers. Richard’s hand trembled as he brushed her hair back from her face and she knew it was because he was trying to be gentle. She snuggled closer to him and felt herself drifting off to sleep.

With her last bit of energy, she wondered about the
words she’d spoken between screams while Richard was cauterizing the wound.
I, Jessica of Edmonds, plight my troth with thee, Richard of Burwyck-on-the-Sea
 . . .

Was a betrothal agreement as binding as a marriage contract?

And did it count when the groom was just trying to distract the bride? It was something she had to discover but she knew she would have to tread lightly while doing it. Caring about Richard’s reactions had really put a damper on her usual habit of saying whatever came to mind. She didn’t want him stomping off when she couldn’t chase him. And she certainly didn’t want to make a mess of something that could turn out to be the most wonderful thing in her life.

She felt sleep creeping up on her like a relentless tide. She tried to summon up a craving for German chocolates. Or New York traffic. Late-night television.

Nope. What she really needed was currently scratching her back with the most careful of scratches, humming an off-key melody under his breath. Jessica smiled.

As far as trades were concerned, she’d just cleaned up.

Her mother would have agreed.

Richard closed the bedchamber door very quietly and propped his sword against the wall. It had been a very unsatisfying morning. John had conducted a thorough search of the surrounding countryside but no one seemed to remember having spoken to Gilbert de Claire—at least no one was willing to admit the like. Gilbert’s descriptions of the man changed on an hourly basis and Richard despaired of ever finding the one who had inspired him to commit such an act.

The thing that troubled him the most was all Gilbert’s talk of faeries and the like. It sounded as mad as something Hugh would have babbled, but perhaps Hugh wasn’t the only daft soul in the north of England. Richard had heard stories that had curled his toes, tales of foul creatures capable of all manner of atrocities. Several of those tales emerged periodically from Blackmour, but that was a keep perpetually shrouded in mystery just the same. Richard wanted to believe he had more control over his imagination than to believe such ramblings.

None of that mattered to him, for it had done nothing to aid him in finding Gilbert’s ally. Over the past week Richard had come to believe that Gilbert wasn’t completely
at fault. That didn’t mean that Richard had any more pity for the lad, or that he intended to keep the boy about the castle; it only meant that Richard fully intended to punish Gilbert’s ally just as brutally once he had the ruffian in hand. As far as Gilbert was concerned, he would be deposited into his sire’s keeping within the se’nnight. Richard suspected the lad would be more than grateful for it, no matter what sort of parental irritation he might stand to face.

Richard put all thoughts of his squire behind him and crossed quietly to the bed. Jessica would probably be asleep again and he didn’t want to wake her. The more she rested, the sooner she would heal and the sooner they could talk. For the first time he could remember, he actually wished to have speech with someone else about something other than the destruction, rebuilding, or manning of his keep.

The saints pity him for a lovesick fool.

He took a deep breath. He wanted to ask Jessica if she remembered binding herself to him. Did she want to be wed in France? What color gown would she want? He was prepared to pay for something in scarlet, simply because it was expensive, but she might prefer green. Aye, emerald green with gold threads shot through it, to match her eyes. He would wear silver and blue to match his. When they stood before the priest, they would be just as handsome as his chess queen and king of gold and silver. Perhaps he would gift her the set. It was his most precious possession. It was right she have it.

He walked to his side of the bed and opened the curtains.

The bed was empty.

“I’m over here, Richard.”

He closed the curtains, took another courage-bracing breath, and looked around the end of the bed. Jessica sat on one of the benches in the alcove with a blanket draped about her. Richard scowled. The bloody window was open! He strode across the chamber and shot her a displeased look before he reached for the shutters.

“Please don’t,” she asked quickly. “I was going stir-crazy.”

“What is stir-crazy?”

“Cabin fever. An intense irritation felt after too many days cooped up in the same small place.” She smiled up at him. “I had to look outside.”

“You’ll catch a chill.”

“I’ll be fine.” She reached for his hand and pulled him down next to her. “How was your day?”

“’Tis only half-finished and I’ve had better.”

“Has Gilbert’s father come yet?”

“In a few days. If my messenger can see his way clear to bring the man to the gates.” He pursed his lips. “Gilbert’s sire thinks Gilbert will lose something of himself for each hour he’s late. For all I know, he’ll be told that Godwin will begin at Gilbert’s groin and work his way outward.”

Jessica burst out laughing. Richard was so surprised at her reaction that he could only stare at her.

“Sorry,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “I known I shouldn’t laugh, but Godwin really is a terrifying person.”

Richard leaned back against the wall and let his features relax. He even attempted a half smile. Aye, Godwin was ferocious, constantly overstepping the bounds of good humor into humor that was rather dark. Richard had passed years laughing silently at his guardsman’s jests.

Jessica shook her head and Richard immediately sobered.

“What?”

“You’re starting to smile again. You’d better stop before it gets away from you and you start to grin.”